emberossing | Bear the Weight of Well-Tailored Clothes (for davaidavai)

Bear the Weight of Well-Tailored Clothes (for davaidavai)

The idea takes a while to come to fruition.

Life moves on in the meantime. The exploration of this thing that's happening between them happens, as most things do, slowly. It's not full-force training season yet, but they're ramping up, getting back in shape, spending time at the rink just working on the basics. Life isn't without it's quiet moments, but it's getting more hectic, and Yuuri has slowly expanded the list of Places in the Apartment That Feel Like Home from the bedroom to include the master bath, and the kitchen, at least, even if he often feels like something of an interloper into the space that he poured over in a magazine in the rest of the house. But it's his toothbrush in the bathroom and his favorite mug in the sink and his side of the bed, and it's good. It's better than good.

So even though he was originally thinking about it as some kind of reward for something in particular, he finds it's a more general thank you, for helping him to settle, on one of their last free days before the real training starts. Viktor's been talking about going clothes shopping for a week now, but hasn't done it yet, so when he suggests that maybe they should go, Yuuri shrugs and agrees to go with him.

Simple. Except that, with the notable exception of Barcelona, Yuuri has never said yes to going shopping for Viktor, except for grocery shopping.

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Maybe it's just because Viktor is also his coach, maybe it's just something about their styles like this, maybe it has something to do with Viktor being famous or with Yuuri's anxiety. He has no idea. But Viktor doing things for him that are associated with skating has never felt cloying or coddling and getting yelled at on the ice, or fussed at it off it, doesn't touch whatever it is that they're doing and building between them. It's been a hard task, getting Yuuri to the point where he trusts that Viktor wants to coach him. But now that they're there, he always accepts that he is.

He's got that kind of power. He doesn't always understand why or even how, but Viktor Nikiforov is falling all over himself to be his coach, to push him to new heights, to put him in the limelight, even if it mostly feels like he's being some combination of dragged and pushed there most of the time.

"Yes, coach," it's said demurely, and he means it that way. The way he looks up through his eyelashes at the end of that, heated, however, is entirely planned. And then, his mouth curving into the little grin that always means trouble,

"If I wear some of this out of here, are you going to be able to wait until we get home, or am I in danger of getting ravished on a street corner?" He knows quite well that he's definitely in danger of getting ravished in a dressing room.

Just not as much danger as Viktor is.

Because Yuuri deserves that spotlight. And if Viktor has to fight Yuuri himself to get him there, well, it's a job worth doing. Viktor wants everyone to see what he sees. How bright the shine is. So his heart leaps at the "Yes coach." Giddy and relieved that it isn't so much of a fight any more.

But then that smile... Maybe he doesn't want to share everything about Yuuri with the world...

"You're always in danger of that," he grins. Brushing back Yuuri's hair, just because it's been too long since he's felt it running through his hand. "Hmmmm. If I behave, do I get a treat?"

It wouldn't be Viktor without a push, now would it?

Yuuri arches an eyebrow sharply, because he might be the one going home with a new wardrobe, but this whole past few hours was a treat. But Viktor wouldn't be Viktor unless he pushed. More, always more. Yuuri considers it, but he takes his sweet time doing it and he knows his face is inscrutable while he's deciding.

"Of course," he finally says, because in the end, he's really bad at denying Viktor much of anything, even if he sometimes has to take the requests and mold them into something that's more to his liking. But that doesn't mean he's a push-over, "But only if you ask more nicely. Just because you've gotten your way so far today doesn't mean you get to be a brat about it," there's humor in his eyes though, just enough of a grin so that Viktor knows that he's joking.

He is also absolutely not joking.

"Ah, sorry, you're right!"

Viktor does not want Yuuri to think he's ungrateful. Doesn't realize who all this is for. Pulling him into a hug, he tips their foreheads together. Breathing in just being together. Never mind the clothes. Even the scarf. This is the best part.

"Thank you. For this."

Then Viktor's own joking/not-joking grin slides onto his face.

"If I'm good, and don't tear your clothes off in public, may I please have a treat when we get home?"

"You're welcome. You deserve it," he can't quite say that he does too, but he wants to give Viktor that all the same, feels it even if he's not quite bold enough to say it, yet, so he reaches out, hopes Viktor can hear the things he doesn't say, "I like... that we match a little better now." He blushes, hides his face in Viktor's shoulder to get it out, clings a little. He trusts it not to change the mood, until he can gather himself after that confession. But he also still feels like everything is knocked a little sideways in him by all of this, the nearer they get to leaving, the more vulnerable he's feeling, a little nervous, he doesn't want to leave the cocoon Viktor's created here, doesn't want to face the salespeople Viktor's protected him from, doesn't want to see the total. He's going to do all of that, he knows he can do it. But it's twisted up inside him like an oncoming train.

"Please tell me that slow fucking me wearing the scarf counts as a treat." It's one of those moments where he's so far pushed past everything that all that's left is the truth. He doesn't even blush.

"Yes."

This is breathed reverently. Viktor's overwhelmed too, in his own way. Hands pressing into every inch of Yuuri he can reach. Yet another thing that would seem strange, to an outsider. Viktor can hold entire arenas hostage. This is one person. Some fabric, some shoes.

And Viktor's absolutely head-over-heels for these "small things." They are as enormous as any arena. If you look at it the right way.

"I'm going to go pay. You can stay in here, if you like?"

He could, of course, take care of all that. The same way he's handled the rest of the task. But... it seems important for Yuuri to choose here. Viktor keeps his hand wound in Yuuri's. Ready to let go - or to pull him close and face the swarm of salespeople together.

"I'll help," he says, quickly, before he can talk himself out of it. He wants to do this, even though it scares him. He wants to do a lot of things, even though they scare him. "But uh, help me pick out what to wear home first so you can take the tags?" It's both another gift and just a practical concern. Viktor will pick faster than he will and Yuuri's ready now to be out, not because he wants to run away from this, but because he has somewhere much, much better to be, now.

This is something he could draw out, if he wanted to, and he feels how good that would be shining over there like a path not taken-- letting Viktor dress him up, not just in something to try on, but how he wants him to look, but he wants to be home, now, impatient as he was teasing Viktor about being and maybe he'll let Viktor pick out his clothes for the next week or something, instead-- right now, though, he's all business about it until they can take the pile of things out towards the register, his old clothes bundled up in the shoebox for his new shoes.

Viktor beams.

"Keep the jeans on, and - Hmm, this one I think," he decides, pulling out a cream button-up shirt. Now that decisions have been made, he doesn't linger. All efficiency as he slips the tags free, buttons into holes. It's not just the eagerness to get home. There's going to be a jaw drop from the sales staff, and Viktor does so love a show.

Especially if it's showing off Yuuri.

Finally comes the the scarf. The first trophy, wound carefully around Yuuri's throat. Then Viktor sweeps everything back together. Rejects piled neat in a corner, the larger stack of winners ready to be presented to the register. (The sales staff are in charge of both.) He tucks Yuuri's old clothes carefully under an arm.

The suit, though? Viktor offers that to Yuuri.

"Ready?"

Edited 2017-09-15 12:04 (UTC)

"No," he says, with a laugh, but he takes the suit and falls into step with Viktor, which is a good sign that he's actually okay with going out there.

Yuuri's blushing madly about getting ushered out, about how much they're spending, about how obvious it is that it's Viktor spending it on him, but there's a bit of mischief in his grin, too, and Viktor can recognize the expression from the club. It's the expression he gets when his brain has a moment where it accepts that Viktor is his. It's depressingly fleeting, but it's always incandescent when it's there. Everyone else here sees this one way and they know it's the other and Yuuri wonders if he's ever, ever going to get tired of that.

The effect is something like a spotlight. Viktor senses more then see the jaw drops. The staff is too well-trained to betray more then that. He takes the win. Looping their arms together and reveling in that aura radiating out. Of being Yuuri's.

The transaction is rapid, complete in less then a minute. Everything packaged neatly together and then they're swinging out the door. With somehow no amount of money actually spoken out loud.

They have more bags from this fancy store than he's ever taken out of even a department store at once, probably paid more for them than he has on every single scrap of clothing he has ever owned in his entire life. He can feel himself wanting to turn around and return them already, tell everyone that there's been a mistake. His stomach turns over a little, the further they get from the store, the more embarrassing such a thing would be. But Viktor's arm is warm through his and the scarf curled around his neck (which it's maybe a bit too warm for still, but he doesn't care, he's not quite uncomfortable enough to remove it) is soft and then the further they get from the store, the more permanent it seems, the more like something that has happened than something that is happening.

Viktor can feel him relax a little against him and he finally breaks the silence,

"Sometime soon, I probably need more than two pairs of shoes," he offers, a cherry on the sundae of today, "But uh... not right now, I don't think," he flushes, looks away-- it's not that he would mind the shopping now, exactly, but they definitely have somewhere better to be, after the conversation in the dressing room and he wants to be there.

"I'm free tomorrow!" chirps Viktor. Unable to resist the cheek.

The trip back passes in a warm blur. A successful shopping trip always brings a high, but this is something else entirely. Viktor doesn't really come back to himself until he's pressing Yuuri against the door. Trailing kisses along his jaw, down his neck. Lingering here and there. Leaving marks, now that there's no salespeople to gossip.

He reclaims just enough presence of mind to get the suit hung on the coat rack. Everything else can wait.

"Hm," Yuuri thinks about it for a moment, "Maybe tomorrow evening. You're busy tomorrow morning." It's said very casually, nothing like Christophe's purring innuendo, but considering what they both know they're cutting the day short today to do, it says something, quietly, about how Yuuri plans to spend the rest of today.

Yuuri's always mercurial, not moment to moment, but day to day, always a little bit of a puzzle, like trying to predict the weather. But, like the weather, there are larger patterns, seasonal norms. It's pretty clear right now that he's all deferred nerves, tension turning him kind of jangly, and when Viktor presses him against the door, the noise he makes is a little desperate, fingers tugging in Viktor's hair. He tilts his head to the side and lets Viktor mark up his neck, but if Viktor tries to be too gentle about it, he's tugging harder, pressing his mouth to the same spot until he gives in and bites, sucks a bruise there, anything. There's energy that has to go somewhere.

It's lucky there's a convenient, willing outlet right here.

Very willing and thrilled to be such a convenience.

Viktor is growing slowly more confident in reading Yuuri. Yet there are days like today, where he surprises Viktor. It's an incredible feeling. Especially with Yuuri tugging him closer. Demanding more contact, dressed in clothes that are new and his.

Just like Viktor is his.

He begins moving down Yuuri's chest. Undoing each button carefully, sucking another pretty mark on the pale skin under it.

All Yuuri can think for a moment is Finally. It's like a breath of relief after how tense everything has been. There's no regrets about doing it, but he definitely needs something else now, needs to put all of that tension somewhere. The very slight pain of the marks Viktor's leaving down his chest, insistent but not overwhelming, is perfect for that and he's pressing his whole body enthusiastically into each one.

"I'm a little surprised you didn't try to convince me the dressing rooms were more private," he comments, though it's broken by a little cry midway through as Viktor leaves a particularly deep mark.

"I happen to like that shop, Yuuri," Viktor hums. Lavishing more attention on that spot. Because he can. Because Yuuri allows it and Viktor will never get tired of these sounds.

Then he's rising back to his feet. Tugging the shirt down Yuri's shoulders. Letting the scarf trail down the fresh line of bruises. Cashmere against over-sensitized skin feels lovely and Viktor's eager to see the reaction.

"Besides," he purrs, "If we got kicked out I couldn't take you back."

Now that this has been establish as a treat, Viktor does not want the option closed off!

"Back? I'm pretty sure we already bought... mmm... bought the entire store," Yuuri's kind of arguing, but he's also gotten a leg hooked around Viktor and pulled him in flush with it until he can roll his hips off the wall and into friction and warmth, which he's doing a lot less like someone who's actively seeking friction and a lot more like someone who's taken pole dancing classes.

There's no move whatsoever to stop Viktor from getting him out of his shirt, and although Viktor can probably feel the ripple of tension through him, Yuuri also doesn't stop him from just dropping the thing on the floor, refocuses on the feel of the scarf on his skin instead.

While Viktor may not have taken pole dancing, he is a talented enough dancer to read that move. Follow through with a slither of his own. His hands slide over the curves of Yuuri's back and down to his ass. Thrilled by how well the denim sets it off.

"Oh no, you didn't get to see the hosiery selection" he murmurs. And it should be ridiculous. Except Viktor purrs the words, bringing up clear images of stockings and nylon to unroll over skin. All the untapped potential.

Except it's a men's store and so Yuuri isn't thinking about images of stockings at all and is instead pretty sure Viktor just purred that out about socks and he's really pretty confused about that. But Viktor purring out anything at all with his hands on his ass is going to be sexy. Besides, Viktor's always clearly had a thing for his feet, so it doesn't seem weird, he just misses the point entirely.

"I would think a shoe store next time would be better," he grants, which is it's own little prize, since he's very clearly agreeing on a next time. And then, warmer, incentive to please get them out of their clothing right now thank you, "I think you'd better be careful, though... You're going to get me used to you spoiling me."

It is definitely not a threat. It's definitely a lot more like a gift.

Well, Viktor's thinking more of the garters that come with the socks. Yuri offering an entire trip to a shoe store? He may faint.

Except there's too much to do! Like divesting Yuuri of his pants and shoes immediately. Viktor kneels to set those aside with care. Then nuzzles against the bulge in Yuuri's underwear. Stroking fingers over it.

"Yuuri, there is nothing I want more then to spoil you rotten."

Yuuri's made him take his time before, fold every piece of lackluster clothing he owns and set it aside while Viktor undresses him, withheld the prize of everything until the end. He's showing off a little now, that he doesn't complain when Viktor doesn't do that, now that he has clothing worth folding. But the secondary message is also clear-- the clothing was never the point. Letting Viktor spoil him on anything isn't about Yuuri, not for him, anyway. It's about letting Viktor spoil him, trusting Viktor to somehow keep turning him into someone who deserves to stand next to him, that he's capable of that. Yuuri's still not sure, some days (most days) that he deserves to be here-- but he's getting used to believing Viktor when Viktor says he is, he's getting surer of what he can't ever seem to ask for, but can demand.

Like now, hand curled in Viktor's hair and the lightest of tugs, not really actually forceful, but enough to hold him in place, pull him just a little forward against his cock.

"This first," he says, because he's not going to make it to the bedroom, "then fuck me in the scarf," he's surprised he gets it out. He's even more surprised he gets it out with the obscenity, has to move on before he locks up from embarrassment, continuing the conversation like he hasn't said anything at all, like he's not rubbing himself lightly against Viktor's face, "Oh? What's next then? Shoes like you said? Your fancy shower stuff? Underwear?" he's not actually sure there are specific stores for men's underwear, but if there are, surely Viktor shops at them. He doesn't want any of that stuff for himself (or at least, that's what he's telling himself, even while feeling the cashmere against his skin) but it's clear the effect it has on Viktor...

"Yes, yes, and yes."

Viktor's never had to work for someone like this. It's not that he wouldn't. But everyone before has been... settled? Not quite the word. Sure of their place, where they belong. He believes fully that Yuuri should be standing next to him. Always. Not because of clothes, or medals, but because he's Yuuri.

And Viktor loves him.

He knows Yuuri struggles with that. The whole thing doesn't have an easy solve. It's worth it, though. Every second. And sometimes - today - Viktor feels like he's getting through.

On that thought he's pulling Yuuri free. Dragging his tongue up the shaft, luxuriating in being allowed this.

"Yes," he murmurs again. Before bringing Yuuri into his mouth.

"Yes isn't a decis--" that's about as far as he gets with a low chuckle before Viktor sinks his mouth over him and the rest of it ends on a moan. He's sort of distantly aware that they're in the entryway, still, that someone in the hall outside would probably be able to hear that if they're passing by at the right time. But he decides that, for once, he really doesn't care.

(He'll spend weeks furtively looking at anyone he passes in the halls or getting their mail and blushing, but it will be worth it.)

The noise is as much relief as it is anything else, he's not really been aware of how wound up he's been until suddenly it's all spiraling out of him. He's not going to last long, but then, he doesn't have to, so there's little point in resisting the build, right from the start. Still, Viktor has enough time to play some, if he's so inclined.

Yes is absolutely a decision. And Viktor makes his case thoroughly. Taking Yuuri down as slow as he dares, reveling in the feel. Warm and heavy. Filling his mouth like ti belongs there. He adores getting to do this. All of Yuuri is pretty, but he shys away from compliments like that.

But this? There is no way to argue with a good blow job.

Viktor rubs patient circles into Yuuri's hips. Encouraging more of that spiral, pulling out the tension. He stays in place even as the orgasm starts. Happy to accept everything he's given.

Yuuri doesn't last, doesn't try to last, lets all of his tension go with it, all of the difficulty and embarrassment and how unsure and uncomfortable he was. He doesn't need any of it, not here, not with Viktor taking care of him. He's loud leading up to it, but almost silent when he finally releases, air breathed out in a sigh of relief that leaves him boneless and, unless Viktor has other grand plans, sinking to the ground into his arms when he's done.

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Well hi ♥

I LIVE!!! (still getting caught up, tho)